


30 Day OTP Challenge

by statechamps



Series: 30 Day OTP Challenge [1]
Category: The Beatles
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Adoption, Angst, Anniversary, Arranged Marriage, As children, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Bathing/Washing, Battle, Concerts, Cooking, Costumes, Depression, F/M, First Kiss, First Meetings, Flowers, Formalwear, Genderswap, Illnesses, Injury, Love Confessions, Marriage Proposal, Meeting the Parents, Nightmares, Pregnancy, Singing, Smut, Spooning, Storms, Television Watching, Unrequited Love, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-18 03:45:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2334047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/statechamps/pseuds/statechamps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've really wanted to try one of these thirty day challenges! I found one off tumblr (foolishlittleshark's challenge) and decided to make things a little different by assigning each boy to different challenges and created different girls for each of them :) I'm honestly really excited about this so here it goes!</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. 30 Day OTP Challenge - 01 - First Kiss (Paul)

**Author's Note:**

> I've really wanted to try one of these thirty day challenges! I found one off tumblr (foolishlittleshark's challenge) and decided to make things a little different by assigning each boy to different challenges and created different girls for each of them :) I'm honestly really excited about this so here it goes!

"It's okay, Betty, you're gonna be fine. Trust me. Just get some rest, alright? It's quite late, I'll check in on ya tomorrow. Try not to think about it too much,"

Sighing deeply, Frances rolled over the mess of disheveled blankets and untangled herself from the cord to return the phone to it's original place. It was half passed two on a Monday morning - she was set to wake up in four hours to prepare for the school day. "Jeez," she huffed and pulled the blankets up to her chin in attempt to stop a chill from rattling her bones. "Not a moments rest!"

The wind howled as it crept through the window, making itself at home as it swept through the bedroom. There were no second thoughts as Frances tossed the blanket from her body, bee-lining towards the source of her chills. "Christ, is it ever cold!" she hissed and pulled open her newly replaced curtains to reveal the window. Sighing to herself once more, Frances gripped the window's edge to pull it shut. "Good riddance." The room was damn-near silent, if you dismiss the sound of her feet padding across the floor in an attempt to reach her bed as soon as possible. 

"George! George, come on! I need you, lad. Open up!" 

Frances stopped dead in her tracks at the masculine voice that desperately called from somewhere below. Retracing her steps, she walked backwards until colliding with the cold wall, craning her neck to peer out the window and into the night. "George! You're making me do this! I watched ya close that window!" the stranger shouted before the atmosphere fell silent once again. Turning her head, Frances had enough time to steal a glance just as a small and circular object banged against the glass. "What in the-!" she hissed just as another came spiralling towards her second-story bedroom. 

Her hands were shaking as she forced open the window and leaned forward. "For the love of God, what on earth are you doing!" Frances whispered, staring wide-eyed at the dark clothed stranger just a few feet below her. 

"Oh, uh, you're... you're not George."

"No, actually, I'm not George," she began, listening as the crickets softly chirped. "George lives next door." The boy was silent for some time, a look of confusion on his face as if he were rethinking every choice made before this moment. "I'm truly sorry about all this, ma'am. I mean it. Here, accept this so I know all is well!" he replied and bent over, plucking a tulip from Frances' mother's prized garden before him. "You're daft, you know that!" she shouted as he spun the flower between his thumb and forefinger. "First you disturb me in the middle of the night, and then you're stealin' from me mum's garden! You've got real nerve to continue standing 'ere right now!" 

A smile stretched across his lips at Frances' accusations, the side of his face illuminated by the street lamp towering above him. "Believe me, I'm a bit on the ditzy side tonight. Couldn't tell your house from George's!" Her fingers clenched and unclenched around the windowpane, fighting back a smile as the stranger held up the flower towards her. "You don't let up, do you?" Frances asked as her lips finally gave in and pulled up into a shy grin. "Ah! There it is! Lovely smile you've got there."

"Oh, please. I think it's about time you 'ead on home. My mother'll wake up and have both of our heads on silver platters!" The stranger shook his head before looking up, unable to make out the colour of Frances' wide and unreadable eyes. "I'd love to see that smile up close, though," he added, completely ignoring the statement. "Listen to me!" Frances shouted. Realizing how loud it had been, she clasped a shaking hand over her mouth. "Listen, how do I know you're not some rapist who has a thing for redheads, huh?" she questioned and leaned forward to get a better look at the stranger. She was shocked at how much taller than her that he seemed to be, barefoot and dressed in what looked like a brand new pair of plaid pajamas. "Trust me, love, I'm not just some rapist. I'd like to think I'm quite professional. And, might I add, redhead's aren't usually my type."

"Alright," France started, twiddling her thumbs nervously. "What if I did join ya down there? What would we do?" 

"Okay, okay, we're getting places! This is improvement!"

"You're losing me again, lad. I wanna know what we would do if I came out." 

"Well, I was planning on proposing to you on a park bench and then testing my luck for a late night shag," 

"You pig!" Frances hissed and crossed her arms over her chest in annoyance. "You nearly had me, too." 

Laughing loudly, the boy offered the flower once more as a peace offering. "Oh! By the way, the name is Paul."

-

"I can't believe this," Frances whispered in the fridgid autumn air, wrapping around her and sending a chill down her spine. "Sneakin' out with some stranger." 

Paul stood before the petite, auburn-haired girl, watching the way she kept her eyes on the leaves beneath their feet. "You're thinkin' too much, love. I was kidding about all that stuff, y'know." She looked up at the sound of his voice, smooth and rich and full of mystery. "I know that, you nerd. I'm just saying." Paul shook his head with an amused grin painting his face before taking her pale and awfully cold hands in his. "Relax. Just chill out a bit, yeah? How's about a little late night walk downtown?" Pause. "You don't even know my name," Frances whispered, her cheeks red and flushed as Paul's thumbs smoothed over her hands. "Well, how about you grant me the privilege of knowing your name and come with me. We can go wherever." Looking into his eyes in the heat of the moment, Frances swore she would follow him anywhere.

"Frances," she stated to break the stream of awkward silence that fell upon the pair. "France's what? What about the French?" Paul asked, a look of concern on his face as she broke out into a fit of giggles. Covering her mouth to control her laughter, she spoke in a muffled voice, "It's my name, you ditz." Turning to face her with a look of shock, Paul gasped and dramatically placed a hand over his heart. "Frances! Wow!" He exclaimed, showing off a smile that could end a war. "Wow." Frances' eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he continued to repeat her name, his smile refusing to fade. "Is there.. something wrong?" She questioned, taken aback by his enthusiasm. "No, no, not at all! It's a lovely name! Frances!" Paul answered excitedly, holding up the stolen tulip in hopes of lightening the mood and gaining the girl's trust. She reached out cautiously, staring at the flower as if it had teeth and would bite. "It's not gonna hurt ya," he murmured with a soft smile and urged Frances to accept his offering. 

"I promise that I'll take this lovely little flower off your hands if you allow me to climb back into my bedroom."

"No way! We haven't even gone walkin'! That's no fair." Paul protested, his bottom lip sticking out in a pout.

"I've got class in just a few hours, Paul. I can't go walking, I'll pass out on ya. I'm quite tired." 

"Come on," he begged, fire dancing in his eyes and urging Frances into following him into the dark. "I won't keep you out too late, if it helps." Rolling her eyes at the comment, she reached out and pulled the flower from his chilly hands and sniffed its sweet scent. "It is a lovely night..." she started and smiled softly. "And I think I forgive ya for stealin' this flower." Taking it as a yes, there were no second thoughts as he started to run.

"Jesus! Paul!" Frances exclaimed once he slowed down to a stop, plopping himself down on a wooden park bench. "What?" he asked, grinning like mad while patting the spot next to him. He's not even out of breath, and here I am, nearly passing out! "What the hell was that for!" She shouted, struggling to catch her breath as she bent over with her hands on her knees. "Shh, it's okay! You've gotta be quiet, love, people are trying to sleep." Son of a bitch! she mouthed and shook her fist, angry with his choices. "I'm sorry," he whispered in the cool air, glancing up at the buzzing and flickering street lamp illuminating their corner of the park. "Whatever," Frances replied and took her spot on the opposite side of the bench, crossing her legs and sitting Indian style. "I didn't take you out here for you to be mad at me," Paul said in return. She hadn't even noticed that he had moved closer until his knee banged against hers. "You didn't have to take me out here!" Frances shouted, jumping off the bench and furrowing her eyebrows in anger. "You didn't have to agree!" He shot back, fists clenching and unclenching at her stubbornness. "I didn't agree! You just fuckin' ran off on me! What was I supposed to do!" Tears pricked at her eyes as she yelled at Paul, unable to hold back her emotions. She always cried when she was angry; it was one of her flaws. 

"Don't, uh, don't do that," Paul said in a hushed voice, unsure of what to do when the first fat tear came rolling down her flushed cheek. "God, I'm so stupid for comin' out here!" She spoke, her voice cracking as Paul stared wide-eyed. "I'm sorry," was all he could muster up while Frances stood silently crying before him. "I'm sorry." She shook her head frantically with arms crossed over her chest, ignoring the repeated apologies and began to stalk off down the sidewalk. "You're going the wrong way, Frances," Paul sighed, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. "I don't care!" She shot back and continued her walk without bothering to look back, even when Paul chased after her. 

"Frances! Frances!" Paul exclaimed, picking up the pace until they were side by side. "This is ridiculous!" He said with a laugh, finally out of breath. "I finally meet a strangely intriguing bird with a hell of an attitude and she hates my guts!" Frances rolled her eyes at the comment, speeding up her walk to get as far away from the boy as possible. 

"Y'know, I went knocking for George cause I was 'aving a real shit night," Paul began and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his pajama pants. "Real tough night." Frances huffed in the cool air, pretending not to listen as Paul spoke quietly. "Mind if I share?" He asked, knowing she wouldn't reply. "Great, here it goes. It began a few months ago, I'm guessin'. I don't know how it got so bad, but it did! Mum is sick, so sick. They told me father they don't know how much longer she'll hold on. That's the scary bit."

Frances bit her lip out of nervousness at Paul's confession, being suddenly hit with a wave of remorse and regret. "See, George is the one I come to with this kinda stuff. Tonight was rough, one of the worst I've 'ad in awhile and I just needed someone, y'know?" She was quiet for some time as they continued to walk in the wrong direction. "I don't expect you to say anything," Paul added, his voice low and melancholy. And she did just that. Frances looked down between them and sucked in a deep breath before lacing her fingers with Paul's, her thumb rubbing his skin just as he had done to her some time before. "It's crazy that we've just met and you're sharing something so personal with me, a complete stranger," she whispered, refusing to look up into his big brown eyes in fear of caving in. Paul smiled shyly to himself at the comforting gesture; he enjoyed how good it felt to have her tiny hand in his. "I'll walk you home now, if you want. I myself am feeling a bit tired now, too," Paul offered with a fake yawn, motioning behind him and slowing to a stop. Frances turned around, a grin plastered on her face as she dropped his hand and walked forward. 

"You're one interesting young man, Paul," she whispered and brushed a stray piece of fly away hair behind her ear. Paul stood motionless in front of the petite girl, the fire that danced in his eyes earlier was now burnt out. "By the way, this doesn't mean I forgive you." Were Frances' last words before standing on her tippy toes to cup Paul's face in her hands. She continued by bringing him down until their eyes were level and he could feel her breath on his chin, fast and hard. "Definitely doesn't mean I forgive you," Frances whispered and inched forward, her lips ghosting over Paul's before finally pressing to his. She watched his eyes widen at the contact as her heart pumped wildly inside her chest; it seemed to beat at a mile a minute. He caved after a motionless moment and kissed the girl in return. The two sported shut eyes while Paul took control, their lips meshing together without routine as his hands followed suit and cupped Frances' flushed face. He pulled away after a moment of breathless kissing to press his lips to her forehead with shut eyes. "What are you doing?" Frances' giggled, feeling as if someone had released a cage of butterflies somewhere deep within her. "Trying to make this a bit more romantic. Is it working?" Paul asked, lips still pressed to her forehead. She shook her head in return and stepped back, looking up at the shaggy haired boy. "I've never kissed a boy, you know," Frances mentioned. A smile spread across Paul's lips, brightening up the night at her confession. "That makes me a lucky guy, huh?"


	2. 30 Day OTP Challenge - 02 - Flowers (Ringo)

Records. Piles on top of piles of records. Maxine swore that she could build a home with the amount of LPs and cassettes stored away in her uncle's shop. She sat on the carpeted floor, swamped and surrounded by boxes of inventory while everybody outside was enjoying the first snowfall. "Load of crap," she muttered, her thick Australian accent distracting a customer pawing through a bin of vinyl. "Lovely accent ya got there," the woman complimented and offered a friendly smile. Maxine's head shot up at the kind words, her glasses sliding down her nose as she smiled in thanks. "Thank you," she replied. "I appreciate it." Saying no more, the woman continued her music search in silence. Maxine rolled her eyes in annoyance and pushed the thick framed glasses high on her nose before continuing her task. 

It had been nearly half an hour since the last customer left the shop, leaving Maxine alone with six full boxes of merchandise. She knew she wouldn't be leaving for quite some time. Sitting with her back to the door, she tore the lid off of the fourth box and inhaled deeply. She was humming along softly to the Rolling Stones song playing in the background when the bells above the entrance sounded. "We're closed, sorry!" Maxine called, ripping the packaging off a new stack of records. She waited for the customers reply, but was only met with the sound of feet padding across the carpet. "I said we are closed," Maxine stated once more, the kindness disappearing from her voice. "Listen, I don't understand why-" she started, getting up from her seat on the floor and walking around the corner of a shelf. "Oh!" A gasp left her lips as she collided with what felt like a brick wall, knocking her back and landing her on her rear. "Jesus!" the strangely familiar voice shouted, one hand pressed to his chest as if to slow the rapid beating of his heart while the other was tucked behind his back. "What the- Ritchie?" She hissed as her eyes focussed on the mop top before her. Ritchie was the last person she expected to be faced with right now, seeing as he was supposed to spend the night with the other three boys. "How did you get here! What 'appened to your night out, huh?" He rolled his eyes sarcastically and reached out to grasp her small hand to pull her to her feet. "Well, I used me legs, of course. It was quite the journey to take on, but it was well worth it, seeing as I'm sharing this lovely moment with my girl," he replied with some attitude, topping it off with a proud grin. Maxine matched his previous actions and rolled her eyes in annoyance before dropping to the floor to continue her work.

"I don't suppose you've only made effort to come here to bother me, Ritchie," groaned Maxine as she rubbed a hand over her sleepy eyes. Looking up for a moment to give her boyfriend a once-over, she noticed his somewhat disheveled appearance and began to wonder just how much trouble he went through to visit her. Gasping as she realized what had happened, she jumped up and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Did you get mobbed by girls again?" She couldn't help but giggle as he nodded; his hair was outrageous. Ritchie refused to return Maxine's embrace in an attempt to keep what was hidden behind his back in secret for a little longer. "Hug me back," she whined with wide puppy dog eyes, knowing it drove him crazy. "Don't look at me like that," he begged. "I can't hug you back, I have a surprise waitin' for ya." Maxine's hand slid up his neck to cup his cheek, her thumb smoothing over the slight stubble. Her eyebrows furrowed together in curiosity. She was never good with surprises, "What is it, Ringo? Oh, please tell me!" Ritchie tossed his head back in laughter and amusement at her impatience before motioning for her to sit down and shut her eyes. Sighing deeply, Maxine complied and sat down with crossed legs.

It was a struggle to sit still and keep her eyes shut with Ringo moving about and humming along as he moved the boxes surrounding them. Maxine could hear the sound liquid being poured into a glass, paired with an unfamiliar squeaking sound and the crackling of a record starting up. "It's safe to open up now," Ringo announced, his voice low and smooth as he walked towards his girl sitting on the carpeted floor. Her hands moved from their place over her eyes revealing a bouquet of her favourite flowers, Bob Dylan's The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan vinyl sleeve, two glasses of red wine and a container filled with some sort of meal. Maxine gasped at the sight and covered her mouth with her hand to refrain from squealing. "Ringo! Ritchie! Richard!" She gratefully exclaimed and pulled at his hands to get him to join her on the floor. "This is beautiful, I swear it! You know how to make a lonely girl swoon." Ringo happily obeyed and fell to his knees, crawling over to the beautiful girl before him. "I love you, Maxie," he whispered, tucking a a stray piece of black hair behind her ear. Her pale cheeks flushed red at the small action and she murmured, "I love you too."

"Have a drink and dance with me," Ringo said, despite the sentence sounding more like a question as Maxine bobbed her head to the tune playing. "Sounds lovely, Mr. Starkey," she complied and rose to her feet just as Girl from the North Country poured from the turntable. She had always taken a liking to the album, although this song in particular held a special place in her heart. Maxine bit her lip to hold back a smile at the perfect moment when Ritchie's arms snaked around her waist and pulled her near. "I love you," he repeated and pressed a kiss to her jawline. "I love you a million times. I'll remind ya till the day I die." Her heart hammered in her chest at the sweet words coaxing and drawing her into Ritchie with every passing second. "You're so sweet on me," Maxine murmured, arms hooked around her neck as he swayed her back and forth to Bob Dylan's smooth voice. "Well, why wouldn't I be? You know you're everything to me, Max," Ringo assured as his hands slid down to rest at the small of her back. 

Maxine's eyes screwed shut at the gesture, wishing they were back at his flat, rather then the dingey record store she worked at. The two danced until the song ended- pressed together without saying a word, letting the music take them away. "You rarely buy me flowers, I can't believe you remembered which are my favourites." laughed Maxine as Ringo bent over to pick up the bouquet of daisies to offer without the two losing contact. "Now you know that's only because I'm buying you everything under the sun when I'm not buyin' flowers." he joked, earning a shove from the extremely short blue-eyed beauty. Everyone commented on how good they looked together because of their shared eye colour and height differences. 

"I'll grab a cup from the staff room. Y'know, to keep the flowers in." Maxine said once they pulled away. Nodding his head in agreement, Ringo began to tear at the flower packaging. 

Walking back into the room, Maxine nearly dropped the cup of water when she took notice the daisies arranged on the floor, each with a small card attached to the stem. "You're just full of surprises!" She gasped, placing the cup on the carpeted floor and picking up the first flower. "Reason one: you're my best mate and my anchor," Maxine read in a soft voice as her thumb ran over the bumpy texture of the paper. Ringo stood in silence, blushing like mad as he watched her read the words written on the card. "Oh, gosh," her voice cracked as she spoke- there were already tears threatening to spill. Ringo pulled her to him in an instant, closing the space between them as he pressed his lips to her forehead. "Two dozen reasons to love Ms. Maxine Smith," he murmured, hand smoothing down her black locks. "You don't know how much this means to me, Ritchie," she whispered and took his chilly hands in hers. "You're such a special guy." He couldn't help but giggle at her words, wanting nothing more than to run off with her then and there. "Let's not talk about me, babe. This is all about you. Now, how's about some of me mum's famous sheppard's pie?"


	3. 30 Day OTP Challenge - 03 - Pick Up Lines (John)

"There'll be no more lonely Lennon after tonight, boys. I swear it!" he exclaimed proudly, pressing a hand over his chest. 

"Oh, yeah?" Paul teased and nodded his head before taking a drink from the glass in his hand. "We'll see how well that'll turn out." 

John shook his head in defence and crossed his arms. "You mockin' me, son?" he questioned in a challenging tone. 

"Not mockin' ya. Just fooling around, don't get your knickers in a knot," Paul spoke as if he didn't believe that the older boy could find a bird and continued to joke around.

"Ay, you listen 'ere!" John started. "I'll even get two of 'em! How's that, huh?" 

Paul's eyes widened at the challenge and put down the newspaper he was reading to match the determined look that John's eyes held. "Fine! While you're getting two, I'll be busy with three lovely women under my arms!"

"I'll get four!" John fought, voice raising as he stood up.

"Five." Paul shot back, resulting in a bet that required getting to snog eighteen birds in an evening, no matter how unrealistic it sounded.

➳

The words played in John's head as he sat perched upon a leather bar stool, listening to the sounds of giggles as Paul reeled in another girl. John hadn't been able to get even one. "Bollocks," he hissed and downed another drink. 

"Don't get yourself down, Lennon. There's always tomorrow night," George chimed in from beside him, although the attempted comfort did no good. He's a faker! John's mind screamed. The lad's been through three birds this evening. 

"Yeah, thanks George," John shot back and motioned to the bartender for another drink. George sighed and stood up, laying an arm across John's shoulders. 

"There's a lovely lookin' girl moping around across the bar. Why don't you go try your moves on her?" He suggested, pointing to the surprisingly stunning brunette who sat stirring her drink absentmindedly. John's eyes lit up at the sight of the lean woman, clad in a polka dot tea dress and high heels that added to the length of her already long legs.

"She looks like trouble," John began, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "She's perfect."

With a drink in his hand and his confidence at an all time high, John went on his way with a thumbs up from Harrison. 

"You look lonely," were his first words to the girl. She looked up at the sound of his voice, her expression matching the confidence painted on John's face. His eyes widened as she stared up at him; her eyes held the most stunning shade of green. 

"No... not exactly. A bit stoned, but definitely not lonely."

John turned away in an instant at the remark, his face flushing red as he walked back to George and his girl. 

 

"The hells your problem?" Laughed George as he tipped a bottle to his lips. John shoved off the younger man's comment and sat down with a huff and crossed arms. 

"Nothing," John really wasn't in the mood to be questioned at the moment.

George rolled his eyes with a sigh and stood up, shooing away the woman trying to shove her hand in his trousers.

"Uninterested, huh? That's a bit odd, wouldn't you say? What did you do?" He asked and cocked his head to the side. 

John scoffed before speaking, "I used a pick-up line. She wasn't 'aving any of it though. But, God, did she have the must stunning face. T'was nerve wracking!" George struggled to hold back a chuckle at John's choice of words but complied for his mate and continued to ask exactly which line he threw her way. Looking down in disappointment and embarrassment, John whispered, "you look lonely." Unable to hold it any longer, George laughed loudly and chewed at his bottom lip. 

"Here," he began, lips nearing John's ear to keep things private. "Try this."

-

With his hopes and confidence raised, John walked over to approach the bird for a second time. Thanking his lucky stars for the fact that she was not accompanied by another man, he cleared his throat and sat upon the stool closest to the brunette.

"Hi there," John began in the most seductive tone he could muster up at the moment. 

"Hiya," she greeted in return and shot him a tight smile. She was clearly still turned off when John bolted away from her earlier.

"Pardon me for asking, but would you like to join me for an evening of the best Bob Dylan records around, scotch and the best sex you've ever experienced?" 

The woman's eyes were widened to the point where John thought they would pop out of their sockets.

"A little too much?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The tension built as the silence sat heavy between them, filling in every corner. He contemplated running away like a sissy before he felt a hand grasp his.

"Why, you're a man after my own heart," she whispered, eyes wide and full of adventure. A grin spread across John's lips at the unexpected response and he couldn't help but toss his head back in laughter. 

"Gear!" he exclaimed and covered his mouth to extinguish the laughing fit. "I am a gentleman, though. So please, won't you tell me your name?" The pale skinned beauty giggled at John's remark and took a deep breath. 

"They call me Lydia. Lydia Scott." 

"Lydia Scott, huh?" John questioned. "Well, Scott, would your mum approve of ya running off with some random who tried picking you up at the pub?" Lydia rolled her eyes with a chuckle and shoved him playfully before hopping off the barstool. 

"You're not some random. Don't think I don't know who you are, Lennon," Lydia shot back with a fierce grin, earning a nod and a wink from the guitarist. 

"And why would I think that? I didn't take you as the stupid type, but..."

"Shit!" She hissed, cutting him off and pressing a hand to her forehead as she frantically searched the floor and countertop. 

"What're you missing?" John questioned with a frown.

"Someone nabbed my jacket," Lydia replied disappointedly and shook her head. "From right under my nose, too." She stood sulking for some time before something was draped over her shoulders. 

"'ere you go," John said after placing his own leather jacket gently across her shoulders. "To save ya from catching the flu. It's quite chilly, and we definitely can't have you sneezing and coughing about." She could help it as her cheeks flushed at the surprisingly sweet gesture; she carried on by thanking him and forcing her arms through the sleeves. 

Bidding George farewell with a wink, John took his bird by the hand and led her out into the crisp city air. 

"You were right!" Lydia stated as they started down the sidewalk, shoulders rubbing as they walked. "It is rather chilly." 

John remained silent and nodded in agreement, watching thoughtfully as the sidewalk's cracks passed beneath their feet. Lydia was confused at the newfound silence that lingered between them- she was worried that John was not as interested as he had previously thought. 

Pulling the loose-fitting jacket tighter around her slim figure, Lydia cleared her throat and broke the unwanted lack of conversation. "Did I do something wrong?"

His head shot up at the sound of worry evident in her voice. John was confused- what was she going off about?

"What's the matter?" He asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

Lydia sighed before repeating, "did I do something wrong?" Understanding her reasoning, John grinned and slung an arm around her waist. "Do I have any reason to think wrong of you?" He asked, looking down into her troubled green hues. "To be quite honest, I was rethinking whether or not I really wanted to follow through with my plan or if I wanted to take you to the café and treat you with the respect and affection that you deserve." Lydia was shocked at the response - she discovered that John was but a mystery. A roller coaster, call it that. She had seen more sides to a person than she thought possible. John was shy, but brave and courageous all at the same time. He was seductive as well as sweet and knew how to have a woman at his mercy, and to say she was not interested would be a lie. 

"Oh," Lydia whispered, unable to find words and let her blushing cheeks do the talking. 

"Oh?" John questioned in return and shoved his hands deep into his denim pockets. "Oh." Lydia rolled her eyes and grinned at the man, too afraid to say more in fear of saying something wrong. "So, how does that sound? Reply with 'oh' if you'd like to join me for a cuppa. I'd prefer to be accompanied by your presence than spend the night alone," 

Giggling at his reasoning, Lydia replied, "Oh," before lacing her fingers through his and pressing her lips to kiss his knuckles. Shooting her a confident grin, John squeezed the seemingly frozen hand he was holding and motioned the brunette to stay close as he led her to the posh café just minutes down the road.


	5. 30 Day OTP Challenge - 04 - Anniversary (George)

   Beeping. Buzzing. Ringing and white washed walls- it was getting old, as was the whole 'being without George for hours on end' thing. They were still trying to convince Carmen to attend therapy, although they were always brought back to the same answer without any change of heart. "I'm not doing it," she protested, careful when crossing her arms defensively in fear of pulling out her injection. "I really do believe it'll benefit you greatly, sweetheart." The nurse said in reply, growing impatient with Carmen's constant refusal. "You're clearly unstable- look what you did to these arms of yours!"   
     She rolled her eyes at the unnecessarily made comment and scoffed, immediately requesting to see George for the fifth time in the passed hour. "You can't see him!" The nurse exclaimed in annoyance and rubbed a hand over her eyes in exhaustion. "Listen, Mrs. Harrison, I'm sorry but it is not a very wise choice to have visitors today. You seem a bit too unstable at the moment."   
     Carmen felt tears pricking at her eyes with the nurses' words; it was her and George's first wedding anniversary and here she was, depressed and locked away in a hospital after a failed attempt at taking away her own life. She couldn't even remember why she had tried and succeeded in ruining everything. Her mind ached as she shooed away the nurse, only wanting to sleep away the day. Closing her tired eyes for the tenth time, Carmen drifted off to the sound of machines around her.  
     She groaned as the thin hospital mattress caved slightly beside her, letting her weakened body roll slightly. "Don't touch me," Carmen mumbled and rubbed a hand over her face with closed eyes. "I'm trying to rest." There was silence for a few moments before an arm snaked around her waist, followed by the sound of slight sniffling. "The hell is-" Carmen was interrupted midsentence at the gesture and rolled over completely to protest when she came face-to-face with her husband. "George, they said you couldn't come, they said I wasn't allowed to see you today!" She attempted to say with a straight face, only to cave in as her eyebrows furrowed and the first tear rolled down her cheek. "Shh, I know, it's okay. I'm here now, though. I'm here," he cooed and smiled sadly. It was hard not to notice the state he was in- his usually lively eyes sported bags and a worried gleam while his lips were pulled into what seemed to be a permanent frown. The next thing Carmen took note of was the growing stubble and moustache that added to the whole I-haven't-slept-in-days-because-my   
-idiotic-and-unstable-wife-attempted-to-take-her-own-life look.   
     "I know what you must be thinking about me, George," she whispered and buried her head into his baggy, green, and thickly knit sweater. George rolled his eyes at the comment, pulling her closer to the heat his body radiated. "No you don't. Cause if you did, you wouldn't have said that." Looking up at him with sad eyes, Carmen curled up against him and pulled at the thin sheet until George aided her in pulling it over their bodies. "I miss you, baby girl." She nodded slowly, hands gripping at his sweater. "Happy anniversary," she whispered.   
     Pulling away for a moment, George sat up and shoved a free hand deep into his pocket and searched until he pulled out a plastic bag. "I didn't have time to get it wrapped, but it's the thought that counts, yeah?" He chuckled and lay back once more before offering the small bag. With shaking hands, Carmen accepted the present and pulled it open, revealing a bundle of silver chain. She couldn't help but gasp as she pulled it from the bag - it was a long silver necklace with George's initials engraved on a moon pendant.   
     "George!" she whisper-yelled, clutching the gift tightly and pressing her lips to his in an attempt to get across her thankfulness. "I love it." Carmen smiled at the genuine gift and wished she had the present she had purchased weeks before to offer George. "I hope so, you're my girl and I love to see you showin' off that smile," He replied, his head swooping down to kiss her forehead, eyelids, the tip of her nose and both cheeks before finally reaching her lips with a satisfied sigh. "Even in a hospital gown with needles shooting up her arms?" She asked once he pulled away, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. "Even in a hospital with needles that are trying to help her by pokin' around her arms." George corrected with a giggle that made Carmen feel at home. "I'm sorry, baby," she cooed and ran a hand through his thick locks before resting her head on his chest. Her other hand was still gripping the necklace tightly.   
     For a moment, a sick idea crossed her mind and Carmen couldn't help but act on impulse. "Kiss me," she whispered, flaunting her best puppy dog eyes. George complied without question, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that lacked the intense passion she was hoping for- Carmen needed a kiss that was full of lust and want. "Kiss me like you want me, Harrison."   
     George immediately took advantage of her request and began to kiss her in a way that exceeded Carmen's expectations. They lay like that for some time, wrapped up in each other and kissing with a force that could make a girl's knees weak. "I love you," he mumbled against her lips before pulling away. Carmen groaned in disappointment at the absence of George's mouth on hers and gave in to her growing desire, running her hand over his jean clad thigh. "Carmen," he groaned and held out a hand to stop her. "Stop what you're doing." Her eyes widened at the command and she pulled away instantly, staring at her hand as if it had grown ten times in size. "I'm sorry!" Carmen whispered, burying her head in the crook of his neck as he attempted to comfort her. "I'm sorry, George."   
     George's hand smoothed over her back, pulling her in and shaking his head sadly. "S'okay, love, I'm the sorry one. You know how badly I want you, but not here, okay?" Carmen nodded sadly, realize just how stupid it was to even try to make a move on George. In a hospital bed. "I promise, when you get out of here we'll try this anniversary thing again, okay? I'll treat you like the princess you are," he added, his voice a low whisper as he pressed a kiss to her jawline. "I love you, kid."  
     "Some anniversary, huh?" Carmen whispered after a few moments of silent as her finger traced patterns over George's chest. "Hey, don't worry about it. I quite enjoyed m'self," he replied with a chuckle, continuing to twirl a piece of her hair between his fingers. "Besides, it doesn't matter how it's been celebrated. You've still been my wife for a year and m'thankful for that." She pulled away with a painful blush on her cheeks at his words; she was always amazed by how quickly he could woo her with just a couple words. "You're such a sap, Harrison," she giggled and pushed his shoulder gently. George smiled in return and squeezed her hand before speaking again, "you love it, Harrison."


End file.
